


The Black Pawn

by Lost_to_the_Night



Series: One Fandom at a Time [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Phantom Menace, Author Has No Idea How Life Actually Works, Bad Writing, Conspiracy, Jedi, Jedi Training, The Force
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-04-05 08:04:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14039817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_to_the_Night/pseuds/Lost_to_the_Night
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi spent the first two and a half decades of his life trying to become one with the Force. He spent the rest of it trying to rip it from his veins, break its hold over him, and get it out. Of. His. HEAD.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agent_ontario](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_ontario/gifts).



It was supposed to be a quick search-and-destroy mission, a hit-and-run. Just find it, destroy it, and be gone without anyone noticing he was there in the first place. However, like all good plans, it went down in flames the moment it came into contact with the enemy.

Mal-

 _Maul_ tried, he really did. It was all so _new_ , and he just _didn’t know what to do_. He wasn’t exactly inexperienced on going on missions by himself - how could he? His mentor accompanied him on his first few, but Pa-... Sidious, Sidious had too much hinging on him being where he had to be. Maul understood, but he longed for his mentor’s soothing presence. More there was more at stake than just his comfort. This could be the greatest victory for the Sith Order in decades. At least, it would be if he succeeded.

He tried to find and destroy that Force artifact without killing anyone, he really did. It was  like a virus, slowly infecting Force sensitives in the sector Naboo was in. It was unnerving, seeing people's eyes flashing yellow at random. Pal - no, Darth Sidious - can't think in real names, **_it_ ** would pluck it from his head - loved his planet, had wanted to save it. Unfortunately, Force-sensitives were bountiful on Naboo. Sometimes, it seemed like practically everyone in the government of Naboo was a Sensitive. They had taken the artifact and were hiding it somewhere within the city.

If he was closer to it Maul could potentially sense it himself, but those kriffing Sensitives were passing it around like some game. Putting the people into camps and inspecting them one-by-one was the only way to find it. The Force imprint of the artifact had disappeared yesterday, but Maul was _close_. He could _feel_ it.

People were going to be hurt. It was unavoidable when you were a group of five, fighting against practically the _entire_ galaxy. Still, Maul _tried_. The people were fed. They were treated with kindness and given medical care, but still they fought, screaming about some injustice that Maul _just couldn't see_. It was the Force manipulating their senses, making them perceive things that weren’t real. Maul could probably see it too, if he just… let... go…

**_No!_ **

Maul shook his head, shivers racking his body. The Force artifact must be starting to infect him too, if he was getting these kind of thoughts. The situation had just gotten more dire.

Out of habit, he peered out of a window as he passed by, seeing the citizens of Naboo slowly crowding around a corner near one of his checkpoints. Maul grimaced. He didn’t need to reach through the threatening Force to know they were about to rally and riot. Again. Maul seriously wondered if they thought they were being discreet, because they weren’t. They really weren't. It wasn’t very hard to figure out. This pattern repeated itself practically every other day. His troops had been ordered not to harm anyone, and Maul was already calculating the numbers he would lose to this 'rebellion.' At this rate, he would need to call for reinforcements. Why wouldn't the people stop and just _see_ that none of them were being harmed? He didn't know if the artifact was starting to affect them too, didn't want to know, but-

What was that? There was something behind the door, something that the Force was desperately trying to hide. Maul let the doors open, seeing a crowd of people behind it. _Oh, great_.

...Jedi.

Maul let the rest of the group file away. He wasn’t going to hurt them, but he knew he couldn’t run from the Jedi. Once they wind of a Sith, they would never let him go. Or her. Maul wasn’t sexist.

Maul pushed his hood back to get a better glimpse at his opponents. A padawan that was older than him -hah, that age and _still_ a padawan?! The Jedi were slipping- and an old geezer. Maul bit back a chortle as the two simultaneously slipped off their outer robes like strippers, instead igniting his double-bladed lightsaber.

The battle was… disappointing, to say the least. Maul barely had to divide his attention between fighting them and repelling the Force. Bolstered by the presence of the two Jedi, it clung to him like slime, trying to slow down his movements. Maul’s anger at the Jedi’s corruption, his love for the galaxy, the pain of fighting against those that should be his brothers-in-arms... it all formed a thick shield around him, letting the Force slide off like raindrops.

They exchanged a flurry of blows, Maul slowly leading them in the direction the Force seemed to be radiating from. It wasn’t hard - just follow the flow of power from somewhere behind him to where the Jedi were. He didn't want them there, being more corrupted by mere proximity to whatever it was, but Maul had to try to find it one last time. 

Maul did a simple backflip off the walkway and onto a ramp, touching the Force briefly and letting go before it could sink its hooks into him. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as the Jedi copied him - were they _trying_ to get killed? Who did a backflip to where their enemy was waiting with a weapon that could lop off a limb without any resistance? _He could have cut them both in half with one strike!_ He hastily stepped back so they wouldn’t jump into his waiting blades, held horizontally right where they were about to land.

He locked his lightsabers with both their sabers in a move that _shouldn’t be possible in an actual fight._ Whatever. Fighting. Kicking at the padawan, Maul immediately panicked when the human let the boot meet his face. Practically flying back due to the force behind the kick, the kid rolled off the platform. Surely the Jedi weren’t _this_ incompetent?!

Apparently, the ‘master’ didn’t care, or maybe he trusted that his padawan could survive an unsurvivable drop, because he didn’t falter, taking advantage of Maul’s distraction to punch him off the platform too.

...At least Maul now knew why the master didn’t look after the padawan. The fall only took seconds. The padawan must’ve told the master he was okay through the training bond. Maul lay there for another second, letting his emotions flow through him to counteract the Force’s corruption. 

Exasperatedly moving his blade out of the way as the Jedi tried to jump on him - _I could’ve accidentally taken your foot off, you idiot_ \- Maul did another face-kick, this time on purpose. They fought their way down the ramp and - _was that the Padawan, still hanging from the edge of the platform?!_ He had use of the Force; use it to pull himself up, for kriff’s sake!

To Maul's relief, the Padawan did an 'impressive' jump up, using the Force. The padawan was coming now, but Maul was almost there. He could feel the malicious churning of the Force at his backside. He stopped, relieved that he wouldn’t have to stop more idiocy, when the gate closed between him and the Jedi Master. The idiot just sat down and meditated. Great. He was corrupting himself even more on the Force. Just what they all needed.

After poking at the gate with his lightsaber to make sure there was no way the idiots could ambush him when his back was turned, Maul paced back and forth, scanning the entire chamber first with his eyes and the senses his species gave him, then with the Force. The artifact was here, he could feel it. But _where_?

The gate opened and the fight was on. The padawan was stuck on the other side of the last gate as it closed. Tough luck, kiddo. Maul couldn't deny that he was relieved not to have to watch over him too. One idiot at a time was more than enough.

Ignoring how the padawan was standing at the gate, panting with his mouth wide open like an utter moron, Maul stared into the eyes of the Jedi for a long moment, trying to project his urgency and understanding, his good faith. For a moment, he thought it worked. The Jedi paused, a little frown on his face. Maul stepped backwards, and the Jedi didn’t follow.

Maul took another step back, still staring into those liquid blue eyes.

Nothing. Except…

The Jedi was looking back with... understanding? But… Sidious said it couldn’t be done...

As he put his foot backwards again, something changed. The Force roared alive, washing over the Jedi like a tide of black sludge. Maul turned to flee, but it turned out he didn’t need to.

The Jedi kriffing _speared himself on his own kriffing lightsaber_.

Maul gawked as the Jedi slumped to his knees, wondering _why_ the Force killed one of its own slaves. He belatedly remembered the Padawan when he lunged at Maul, screaming something that sounded a lot like, "You killed my Master!" Maul had to resist that urge to point out that he had been trying to run away, had been across the room from the Jedi, really. The Jedi wouldn't hear him anyway. The Force would prevent it, making him sound evil, like ‘You shall bow to the dark side’ or something.

Honestly, it was just like the kriffin' Force to do something like this - to kill a Jedi and blame one of the Sith Order. Malzin couldn't do a thing about the disease, only slow the spread of the virus, and it rankled.

But... The padawan was channeling his anger now, slowly taking control back from the Force. Malzin could see him twisting and tearing away from the Force with the power behind his anger and pain. Part of Mal was saddened that he caused the pain - the Force wouldn't have killed the Jedi if Mal hadn't been there - but part of Malzin insisted that it wasn't his fault. 'Greater good' and all that. Trying to taunt him and encourage the rising emotions, Malzin was only rewarded with a broken saber. Kriff it. It probably wasn’t going to work on over two decades of brainwashing anyways.

Spinning as he retreated from the Jedi, Malzin warded off a few blows. Batting the Force away out of mere habit, not any true sense of danger, he kicked the padawan’s face again. To his hysterical exasperation, it connected - seriously, why were they falling for such a basic move? _Just stay down._

The human just wouldn’t let him flee, though Malzin was clearly trying to walk away. He just kept coming. Malzin pushed the Jedi into the hole, right over where the light fissure was. As expected, the padawan grabbed hold of it. _I don’t want to hurt you._

Making sure the padawan was okay, Malzin sank into the Force, not allowing it to hold him, just scanning it for the artifact. He couldn’t pinpoint it, and he was running out of time. The Jedi padawan was only about a year older than Malzin, but he was frankly as terrible as all the other Jedi at fighting. Still, Malzin clearly couldn’t fight off the Force’s manipulations and the padawan at the same time. Malzin needed to shake him off, lay low, and return once they had relaxed their security again. It would be a huge delay, but Malz-

Maul froze. _How long had he been using his real name?!_

_No!_ **** ~~~~

Even as he realized it, he knew it was too late. The Force was already pressing down on him, digging hooks into his walls. It grabbed hold of his limbs, paralyzing him even as he flinched away from its festering presence in his mind. He couldn't move, he couldn't-

_Let me go!_

Maul almost didn’t feel it when the padawan slashed him through the stomach. It was a painful strike, meant to draw out the death in an excruciating way. It wasn't a typical 'Jedi' move. Maul couldn't tell if it was ordered by the Force or if it was simply human anger that caused the kid to choose such a strike. Still, it didn’t matter. It was nothing, compared to the pain the Force was impressing upon him.

And it had all been for nothing.

_It hurts...._

He had failed. He hadn't destroyed the artifact and he wasn't getting out of here alive. Not anymore. He had to kill himself to save the Order. A couple more seconds and his walls would crumble. The Force would have the identities of the rest of the Order and the Galaxy would be doomed.

_M-mentor, can you hear-?_

Maul - no, _Malzin_. It was too late anyways, and he was going to die as himself, not a mask he used to protect himself - raised his lightsaber to cut off his own head, his hands trembling over the exertion. The light caught on something, and Malzin reflexively glanced over as he pushed the Padawan gently away. He turned to see...

Of course.

The Sensitives were brilliant, hiding it here. It was melted down, molded into the very _walls of the chamber_. But… Malzin was falling. When did his feet leave the ground? The Force was tearing apart his mind and he was _falling_... he couldn’t destroy the artifact.

Unless…

Turning through his freefall, Malzin stabbed into the biolights of the tunnel-like hole he was falling in, reaching out to the Force. With his bolstering willpower, he ordered it, _forced_ it to throw the padawan out of the chamber and to safety as he worked his saber into the sides. The gates should keep the padawan safe enough, at least. His lightsaber cut through the plexiglass with little resistance, the heat igniting the fluids inside as he fell past. Malzin tilted his face up as he fell, eyes on the artifact melded into the walls.

The explosion was brilliant. It overtook the artifact and Malzin knew the moment it was destroyed. He had succeeded.

Malzin had a split moment to hear the Force scream as its hooks on Naboo were abruptly severed. The presence ripping his mind apart was snuffed out, but Malzin had only milliseconds to act.

With the cloud around Naboo gone, Malzin reached out to space, towards Coruscant, towards his mentor. With the distance between them, Malzin wasn’t sure his mentor received his message, but he could hope. He hoped his mentor wouldn’t take his death as his fault. His mentor blamed himself for too many things. It worked, though. He succeeded in freeing Naboo. Malzin had a moment of glee and pure peace.

Falling was like flying. Why had he ever feared it?

The explosion caught up to him, then-

 _Nothing_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please suggest tags. Please.
> 
> Maul's name isn't canon. I just got his mom's name and replaced the T with an M. M for Maul! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan recovers his shattered Force presence in the wake of the explosion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh. Didn't expect to update so fast. A bit slow because it's world-building and beginning stuff. It's a bit fractured because it's four different scenarios mashed into one. Then again, that's basically how I usually write, so...

He could see it happen moments before it actually did. The lightsaber’s blade slid through Qui-Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan screamed, first in rage, then in pain as his padawan bond with his master splintered as Qui-Gon fell to his knees. It shattered fully as his master collapsed on the floor, face frozen in shock.

Despite all his training, despite all the Jedi taught him, Obi-Wan let the anger cloud his judgment, twist his connection to the Force. The anger fed itself in an endless loop, heightening him to new levels of fury, levels he had never imagined before. Was this truly what a Sith felt all day, every day? Even as it fueled him and raised him to the peak of physical performance, it wore down on him and he could feel his mental awareness fraying like a rope rubbing on a corner for far too long.

Deep inside, his training, both his connection to the Force and the rational part of his mind, screamed in protest against his actions. Obi-Wan didn’t care. He embraced it, the dark side filling his very being. It railed against everything he ever knew. Everything he was taught was intact, just shown in a different perspective.

It was painful.

It was maddening.

It was… clear.

Obi-Wan remembered seeing things with both pin-point accuracy, yet with single-minded vision, unable to focus on anything else. He remembered the shock of realization that the yellow-eyed Sith wasn’t as yellow-eyed as Obi-Wan thought he was. Obi-Wan remembered looking into burnished orange eyes, eyes that were dangerous, yet decidedly not the infamous yellow of the dark side. He remembered the pain in them… and he remembered not caring.

Now, though… Trapped in the depths of agony and drowning in his own mind, there was nothing for Obi-Wan to do but reflect on his memories. Or, as his late master would insist, _meditate_ on them.

Just the thought of Qui-Gon Jinn brought a fresh wave of pain through Obi-Wan, this time emotional instead of physical. Obi-Wan tried to brush it away with stuttering thoughts of how the Jedi were not supposed to feel attachment.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

_There is no death, there is the Force._

Despite this, Obi-Wan couldn’t let go of his master, nor the anger. He knew it would disappoint his master, but he just… couldn’t. 

The dark side was coursing through him. It was ravaging his body, yet not harming him. The light side had all but abandoned him. Obi-Wan felt its absence like a void.

Some distant part of him was aware of shouting and hands on his body. He subconsciously acknowledged that they had lifted him on a stretcher of some sort and did not fight them. Some part of him kept track of the corners they turned and the paths they took. They were traveling vaguely upwards, presumably towards a med bay. Obi-Wan figured that he probably needed it, after everything that happened.

Had he been injured? Obi-Wan wouldn’t be able to tell, even if Master Yoda had asked him to recount events. After the explosion the Sith caused, everything became fractured, like he was viewing his memories through two different sets of eyes. He knew the general order of events; arriving with the queen, confronting the Sith, the fight through the underpalace, Master Jinn's-

His master’s death suddenly hit him hard, and Obi-Wan screamed, curling up. Hands were on him again, trying to hold him still. Obi-Wan was thrashing, even as they tightened their grip. A soft cloth was wrapped around his wrist, someone trying to tie him down. Refusing to be bound, Obi-Wan yanked his arm away with a yell. He flashed out with his feet. His foot connected with something solid that broke under his Force-enhanced kick. Someone howled in pain. A needle was jabbed into his neck a moment later. Obi-Wan could feel himself fading away.

Soon, there was nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company. Obi-Wan recited the Jedi Code once again. And again. And again, even as his thoughts started splintering off.

-Chapter One-

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

Peace was a foreign concept. His own mind tormented him. He replayed every second of the fight, felt every emotion as it happened. Sometimes, his mind betrayed him. He saw things as if from the Sith’s eyes. Sometimes, he saw Master Jinn stab himself with his own lightsaber. Sometimes, he looked at his own face and saw Sith-yellow eyes looking back.

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

Obi-Wan didn’t _know_ . He didn’t know what to do or how to make the pain go away. More so, he didn’t know what this _thing clinging to him_ was. A lengthy reflection of himself revealed that it had attached itself to him at the end of the fight, as the Sith tossed him and the explosion followed. It wasn’t part of the light side that he usually channeled, and Obi-Wan was starting to have the sinking feeling that it was part of the dark side, perhaps the remnant of the dark side Maul had held at the time of his death.

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

And Maul. What had the Zabrak been _doing_? At the time of the fight, it hadn’t been obvious, but looking back at it, he had been all but playing with them. He could have won within the first two minutes, but he didn’t. Obi-Wan would’ve played it off, but something about Maul’s concerned eyes and his strangely bright Force presence told him otherwise.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he had brushed against the Sith’s Force presence during the fight, looking for a weak spot to strike. He couldn’t find it; the dark side had created an impenetrable storm around him. Somehow, Maul’s ‘passion’ had overcome Qui-Gon’s ‘serenity,’ and Obi-Wan didn’t like it.

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

Obi-Wan tried to open up and release his emotions into the Force. He wanted nothing more than to make the pain go away and sink into the calmness of the Force, but he _couldn’t_. The very fabric of the Force seemed to draw away from him, as if he was tainted by the dark side. What could he do if the one thing he depended on most rejected him?

_There is no death, there is the Force._

Did it even matter? Master Jinn may be one with the Force, but he was still _gone_. Though he could name at least a dozen others who would deny it out of the top of his head, he couldn’t help but think that it was his fault that his master had died. If only he hadn’t been so reckless…

-Chapter One-

Realizing the drug dosages were being lowered, Obi-Wan did his best to calm himself and readied to awaken. If the healers sensed his inner turmoil, they would sentence him to light duty or worse - _bed rest_. He could almost hear Qui-Gon laughing at him.

Then, he remembered that his master was gone.

It struck him again, the sudden realization that Qui-Gon was never going to see him reach knighthood. Never again would they share rations while on a mission. Obi-Wan wouldn't be the one to level Qui-Gon's quirks or glare other Padawans into submission when they started snorting at them. He didn't need to. His master was gone.

He focused on expelling the drugs from his body. Slowly, he became aware of the antiseptic smells inherent to all well-kept med bays. His eyelids felt heavy and his vision was blurred, but Obi-Wan was sure he was back in the Jedi temple on Coruscant. Opening his mouth to ask how long he had been immersed in a Healing Trance, he was met with the sight of who he thought was Jedi Healer T’ra Saa, the second oldest Jedi in existence, bent over a droid. But it couldn’t be her; how could a mere padawan warrant her presence? Sensing him in the Force, she looked up and met his eyes. The Jedi Master’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ in surprise, a look that was unbefitting of a Jedi of her rank.

Before he could say a word, the ancient Jedi was moving with a speed that belied her age. She was beside him in a second, her Force presence sharp and rigid with fear. A strong hand gripped and restrained him. A needle was once again inserted under his skin.

The last thought Obi-Wan had before once again sinking into the darkness of medically-induced unconsciousness was the burning realization that Master Saa’s fear wasn’t _for_ him, but _of_ him.

-Chapter One-

Slowly, as he drifted, waiting to wake up, Obi-Wan started healing. His fragmented thoughts solidified and his thought processes smoothened. Qui-Gon might have still lived if he had been less reckless, yes, but what was done was done. Do or not do; there is no try. Obi-Wan was unable to save his master, and that was that. He needed to push on. At the very least, that was what his late master would want.

But push on to _what_? What did he have to face? As an orphan senior Padawan, it was unlikely that he would get chosen by another master. Jedi's preferred to train their own padawans, untainted by the habits and teaching styles of another Jedi. So was the AgriCorps his destiny? The fate Qui-Gon saved him from now pushed onto him? Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel a lick of self-hatred. If this was really where he was going to end up, then Qui-Gon shouldn't have chosen him as a Padawan. Maybe a different Padawan would've been able to save Qui-Gon from the Sith. 

Deep in his self-despair, he barely noticed the Force presence that pushed up against his. Unlike the cool, calm auras he was used to, this one was bright, blazing, full of burning hope  and excited fear, a cascade of the very emotions that he had been taught to release. The whole thing was tinted with self-disgust. It was like looking at a mirror.

Obi-Wan knew it was wrong to embrace these feelings, but he couldn't help but lean into the presence. Someone who hurt and felt such guilt couldn't be held to such fault. Whatever he or she had done couldn't be so bad as to be utterly _unforgiveable_ , right? 

He reached out to the presence, trying to express the general feeling; _It wasn't your fault_.

The presence hesitated, drawing away. He felt shock and bitter disappointment. Then...

_Nor was it yours._

-Chapter One-

The presence had left almost immediately, leaving nothing but the vague idea that something, some _one_ had been there. Obi-Wan didn't know how long he had been unconscious. Time had no meaning in the void he was in. The dark side was cradling him, not resisting as he pulled away. It wasn’t hurting him - if anything it was a shield keeping the world at bay. Obi-Wan peeled most of it away but kept a thin line connected to it. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help keeping a little of it to dull the edges of the pain he felt.

Obi-Wan could feel himself waking. The pain was a heavy ache that thrummed throughout his body, a far cry from the previous agony. Reluctantly, he let himself drift into the waking world, shifting slightly against thin, crinkly sheets and a firm mattress that did nothing to relieve the ache. Obi-Wan groaned.

The familiar hum of a lightsaber being activated had him jolting upright in his bed, alarmed but  determined to face whatever Sith had dared invade the Jedi temple.

He halted, hand reaching for a lightsaber hilt that wasn’t there. A lightsaber blade was held snugly against his throat, so close that even the mere act of swallowing would burn through the skin of his neck.

He followed the purple blade to a dark hand, up a humble, brown robe sleeve, and looked right into the acidic yellow eyes of Mace Windu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, 'Mother' Talzin was not Maul's mom. Whoops. Okay. Too late to change that. Oh well.


	3. Chapter 3

Obi-Wan had never been much of a panicker. His first instinct, upon spotting Master Windu’s yellow eyes, was not to scream. He did not even attempt to flee, knowing that he was at a disadvantage. Master Windu was more powerful in the force than Obi-Wan and would no doubt be able to restrain him with the Force. He knew without searching that his lightsaber would not be with him - even if he was not restrained to the bed, no darksider, however arrogant, would leave such a deadly weapon in the grasp on an enemy.

If fleeing was not an option, and fighting back was laughable, there was only one thing Obi-Wan could do, and so he did it.

Talk.

He was a negotiator, a convincer. It was just another mask, an act. He could do this. Find a hole to dig in. Concessions and negotiations. Delay and avert. Distract.

“Master Windu?” Obi-Wan asked, masking his fear with confusion that he did not have to fake. For a moment, he was sure he failed. His voice had a tight quality to it that he didn’t usually have. The yellow eyes were alarming. When did Master Windu fall to the dark side, and did anyone else know?

“Padawan Kenobi,” Windu said tonelessly. He pursed his lips, saying nothing else. The Force churned at the bedside, caused by neither of the two, yet both of them. It knocked down Obi-Wan’s walls before they could fully form.

“Master Jinn! The Sith! W-what happened to Naboo?” Obi-Wan blurted out as memories he considered more pressing than the darksider returned. What did one darksider matter when his master was dead? When **the stake of an entire planet** -

Windu gave him an intense look that made Obi-Wan quail in a way he never had when the man had dark eyes, flinching back and tensing into the pillows. The Jedi master frowned at the padawan’s reaction. “You were unconscious for a week from both a Force blast from the Sith and burns from the explosion. The Sith is dead now.”

 _The Sith is dead now_.

The Sith is dead.

The Sith is **dead**.

Obi Wan was not sure why he could not get the words out of his head, but he brushed it off. It didn’t matter.

“But what happened to Naboo? The people? Are they okay?” Obi-Wan demanded again, deciding to forego manners. If Windu chose to become a Sith, then **he didn’t deserve respect**.

Something changed with that question. Some of the tightness around Mace Windu’s eyes disappeared. “The people are unharmed.” He hesitated. “You did well.” He raised his hand, reaching forward, as if to lay it on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

**No!**

Obi-Wan flinched back, not wanting a darksider’s hands anywhere near himself. Windu’s hand hovered in the space between them for a long moment before the man withdrew it. The moment, he did, the residual tension in the room decreased palpably.

Despite the fact that the compliment came from a darksider, Obi-Wan relaxed back into his pillow. He had succeeded. If Windu killed him now for killing his fellow darksider, Obi-Wan would die happy. “What are you going to do with me now?” he asked, lifting his chin up.

Windu stared for a long moment. “Your fate shall be decided by the Council when you are well. For now, Master Yoda wishes to talk to you.”

For a long moment, the room was still as Obi-Wan processed this. Yoda was here. The Council was whole. Whatever happened to turn Windu, whatever betrayals he had a hand in orchestrating, had not harmed the Order to the degree that Obi-Wan feared. At least, he hoped it did not.

**No...**

“And when will Master Yoda be here?” Obi-Wan asked, fighting to keep the tremble from his voice. Whether it was hope or fear that caused it to shake, not even Obi-Wan was able to tell.

“He notified me of his intent to visit ten minutes ago. I expect he will be here soon,” Windu said, crossing his arms.

Obi-Wan examined Windu, who stared right back at him. Obi-Wan could sense the man weighing him, testing him with the Force on a surface level but not delving further. It was deep enough to make the padawan uncomfortable, but light enough that confronting him would be considered petty, if not rude. At least, it would be rude to point it out to another Jedi, especially one of a higher rank. Obi-Wan was not sure how offensive it would be to tell a darksider to stop, but he was not particularly eager to die when Master Yoda was only minutes away at most.

Strangely, the darksider seemed completely unconcerned that Yoda, the light side’s _grandmaster_ , was only a few minutes away, at most. However, what alarmed Obi-Wan the most was the slowly deepening frown. It only grew more pronounced as the seconds ticked by, and Obi-Wan realized that lengthening the silence would do him no favors.

 **Distract**. **Divert**.

“Is he here yet?” Obi-Wan asked as obnoxiously as he could, trying to irritate Windu. If he could anger the darksider enough that his eyes became yellow when Yoda was in the room, the little green troll would realize there was a Sith among them and attack!

“He is not,” Windu answered, raising an eyebrow.

“How about now?” asked Obi-Wan.

“No,” Windu stated, lips pressed firmly together.

Heartened by that one sign of irritation, Obi-Wan asked, “Now?”

“The healers will alert us when he arrives,” Windu said slowly, yellow eyes sharpening on Obi-Wan’s face.

**Stop it. You’ve done enough.**

Obi-Wan bit his lips, wondering if it was worth it to badger the man before Yoda arrived. After all, he could still annoy the older Force user when Yoda was in the room. He glanced back at Windu, then decided that one more time would not hurt. “Is Master Yoda here yet?”

**Stop! This is dangerous.**

The dark-skinned Jedi’s eyes flashed, though he did not move a muscle. Obi-Wan felt Windu prod at him with the Force. With trepidation, Obi-Wan scooted to more of a sitting position, feeling that the extra height would lend him courage. It had no tactical advantage, merely a psychological effect, but Obi-Wan felt more confident now that he was sitting up.

“I told you,” Windu began, “that the grandmaster will-”

“Scold the youngling, you need not,” reprimanded a croaky voice.

“I’m not a youngling,” argued Obi-Wan, registering the words. Then, he recognized the voice. Master Yoda was here. Obi-Wan perked up. Now he could warn the little green troll that Windu had fallen. In his mind, he could already see Yoda could defeat Windu. He turned and stared at the doorway as the healer stepped aside.

The tips of Windu’s mouth pulled down. He grumbled, “Everyone is a youngling to that creaky-”

“Master Yoda!” Obi-Wan shouted the moment he saw the tiny Jedi Master’s hoverchair brush past the healer. “Master Windu is a S-”

As Yoda drifted nearer, Obi-Wan suddenly realized that something was wrong.

Yoda had yellow eyes.

**No!**

He could feel the world crashing down around him. Left was right, Twi’leks were clumsy dancers, Coruscant was a agricultural planet, and Naboo voted to become a Communist planet, because _Yoda was a Sith_. Obi-Wan jerked back before he knew what he was doing. 

**Stay back!**

For a moment, up was down.

Then, Obi-Wan dazedly remembered that he had lunged out of bed, trying to **get away** from the **lightsiders** , because there was nothing he could do against their combined might and **help, master! Master, please!**

For a moment, he thought that he heard an echo of an answer.

But there was no one.

Obi-Wan realized that a quiet, wordless cry was rising out of his throat and closed his mouth so that the horrified wails became defeated whines because _Yoda was a Sith_.

-Black Pawn-

Mace Windu tightened his lips as the padawan asked again where Yoda was. He reminded himself that Obi-Wan had faced a Sith, the first one discovered in centuries. Who knew what terrible perversions of the Force the Sith had come up with over that time? It was not above them to twist the Force to harm the ones that slew them. That such a thing could be done worried Windu.

“Now?” Obi-Wan asked yet again.

“The healers will alert us when he arrives,” Windu said slowly, examining Obi-Wan’s face, ignoring the color of the padawan’s eyes that marked him as one of the darksiders. The padawan had always been… unorthodox, but never outright _rude_. He had never been what one would consider an ideal padawan, but neither was he impatient and deliberately vexing. That Obi-Wan was purposely being irksome… was that a product of whatever the Sith schemed? Did they twist the boy so?

Despite himself, Mace Windu felt something within his chest twinge at the thought. Obi-Wan, while not a standard Jedi, was inherently good. If not for the yellow eyes and the agitated Force presence, Mace would have thought Obi-Wan a lightsider. Physical reactions aside, Obi-Wan’s verbal responses were all correct. Frantic demands about the wellbeing of Naboo's people. Concern that the Sith might be around. And Mace would have been deaf to miss the pain in the padawan’s voice when he mentioned his deceased master.

Windu was pulled out of his thoughts as Obi-Wan glanced at him. “Is Master Yoda here yet?” he asked, voice curious and innocent.

Mace stared at the padawan, unmoving. Did Obi-Wan forget what he had just told him? Some sort of Sith mind trick that affected memory? Mace tried to feel him through the Force but, as with all the other times, Obi-Wan was muddled. Mace could tell that there was a presence, that Obi-Wan was there, but he could not feel a thing though the storm surrounding the younger human.

Obi-Wan shifted and slowly sat up, obviously discomforted. Mace decided to take pity on him and reminded him, “I told you that the grandmaster will-”

He sensed Yoda and one of the healers approach. “Scold the youngling, you need not,” Yoda interrupted. They looked at each other for a long moment, then Mace shook his head, indicating Obi-Wan. Yoda nodded.

“I’m not a youngling,” argued Obi-Wan.

Windu swallowed an undignified snort, but was unable to hold back his thoughts. “Everyone is a youngling to that creaky-”

“Master Yoda!” Obi-Wan shouted the moment he saw the tiny Jedi Master’s hoverchair brush past the healer. “Master Windu is a S-”

The senior padawan’s words broke off in an anguished cry, causing Mace and Yoda to still in shock at the suddenness and the departing healer to rush back to the room. Obi-Wan’s Force presence, once so inscrutable to Mace, was now rolling with more terror than one person could possibly hold.

“Padawan Kenobi!” Mace snapped reflexively. He winced, feeling Yoda’s disapproval radiate sharply through the Force. “Obi-Wan,” he said in a softer voice, but the damage was already done. Obi-Wan all but leapt out of the bed, away from both Jedi masters.

Fingernails scabbling at the floor, Obi-Wan scrambled back with his hands, no regard for his nearly-healed injuries. He pressed himself into the corner furthest from the door and huddled there in a fetal position, shaking.

The commotion drew more healers to the room, but their supposedly calming presences only made the terrified padawan draw into a smaller ball, his fearful noises choked off. Mace did not spare a second thought before sending them away. Helplessly, Windu took a step forward and crouched, but the padawan’s wails resumed as he kicked away from the Jedi master. Seeing he was unwanted, _feared_ , Windu froze, hand outstretched in a mockery of their earlier interactions.

Mace looked to Yoda for assistance, and the two exchanged quiet, desperate glances as the padawan’s shoulders shook in silent sobs, hoping against hope that there was some way to save the fallen padawan from the dark side.

-Black Pawn-

Somewhere in the Mid Rim, lightyears away on a recently-liberated planet, the Force wailed, seethed, and _broke_ as a master mourned his apprentice. As it curled away, suddenly, he could sense his padawan.

Heart-stopping **terror**. Freezing **horror**. Enough **_pain_ ** to send lessor men to their knees.

So far away… Coruscant.

He lashed out at the weakened Force. Scalded, the Force relented and withdrew as the master reached out to send his strength to his padawan.

Coruscant.

Soaring joy. Biting anger. Billowing hope. He savored his emotions, the feelings that gave him the strength to hold on.

Coruscant. He had to get to Coruscant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay… Honestly, I wasn’t going to do that middle part, the part with Window’s (...I blame autocorrect) POV. Pretty much the only reason I did it was because my not-really-OCD wanted the chapters to be more even, but what I planned for chapter three goes better as its own group, so...

**Author's Note:**

> Congrats, you have reached the end of TBP! Welcome aboard this crazy-train and settle down for a long wait. This was just an idea that popped into my head while I was writing my other story, which I call OISAMOW. I update that one on a schedule. This one has no schedule.
> 
> Gotta admit - this is pretty good for someone who hasn't watched the movies, just some YouTube clips, right?


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